History's Mistakes: SEASON 2
by HellsRetriever
Summary: A year later, no one has recovered from the bio technical bombs that went off that fateful night. The flares remained burned into the minds of the people and others around them. But the hard times still are yet to come. For one must adapt, and leave the past. As Veronica so easily put it "Let go, begin anew"
1. Chapter 1

Date: December 13th, Thursday, 2018. Time: 20:34

I live…

A shadowy figure stood among the crystaled and snowy banks of the road, covered in a thin coat of ice, like it was glazed with a dusting of icing. The figure's weight and mass crunched along, the wind pushing with all its might unto it's tall shoulders. The wind forced its way through the neighboring trees, causing them to dance with the white and black of the night. Wisps of white and sleet hit the figure's eyes. It brushed the snow away from the gas mask glass for each eye. The inside was warm with heavy breaths, as the filter worked on picking only the purest of air for the face inside. The figure was male in stature and figure. It's head turned towards the road once again. Was something there? A calling? A sound? A threat… 2 shots were fired. The figure stood once again. Silent. It had killed what was bothering it. It killed the living. As all good creatures do.

"Say Judy, you're a creature now right?"

 **Season 2: Chapter 1: Hard Truths**

Porter stood outside of the medical ward. Time and time again, he felt as if this was his least favorite spot on the planet. But this time more than ever. He clasped the handle and walked in. Jesse lay with an IV, and nothing else, in a bed. Her face was pale, and thinner than it should have been. She looked like a ghoul, as if her soul was sucked out in an unceremonious fashion. Porter looked down upon her as one would look at a dying dog.

"This will only last for so long." Porter mumbled quiety. Time had taken its effect on the poor kid. He wasn't even close to being 21 years of age, and yet, he had the attitude and mindset of a dying man at times. His left arm and eye were still there, an aching reminder of him never being able to be whole again. The blue lights emitting from his arm where that reminder. An alarm to remind of pain. Jesse lay with a similar predicament, only each one was a timer. A time that one can only cheat for so long.

"Yeah… and yet Jack put that mangled pile of meat from last year into a tank of liquid and it somehow has vital functions." replied Jesse "the least you can do it help me live that much more."

"Jesse… more augments isn't the cure. It's the removal of an option of one." Porter said. His voice was withered.

"I don't need you dying because you wouldn't do the standard treatment."

* * *

Judy stood by the pile of stones. Erected out of desperation and a need for a hole to filled. The air around her was thick. As another stone calmly floated towards the others, stacking on top, Judy flicked out a knife. It came from her left arm, which like others she wished were among the ones she mourned, and reminded her of the pain it caused her. The pain she caused herself. She hated the idea of it now. It used to be this power, this privilege. Now she knows. It's a curse. Judy ran the sharp blade along her hand, where other scars were seen. Blood fell, but only for 10 seconds. Everytime. On the dot. By then, the would had healed, and the machine that was her arm. Putting gloves on, and a gasmask, she turned, to walk into what was no longer a great city, but a quarantine.

Nick...nick…..nick….for every penny there is a nickel.

Judy pulled up her gauntlets. To hide her shame. Her mistakes. Yet when you leave a mark as large as one's chest, it's a bit hard to cover with just cloth and tears.

The city was in ruin. Half of it was simple rubble. These where the cloud lands. Place you would go to be assimilated. You would lose all self worth and feeling. You would become grey. The other half was filled with crime, murder, and a rapist's trafficking group. The whole of the area was covered like a meal in the fridge with a wrap. This wrap was armed, as the Dome was not be challenged. The cloud feared its ability to adapt faster than it. Others saw it on the outside as a barrier, between Hell and normality. Large sections of city where coated in a grey coat. There the people turned. They were mindless. So mindless, the creator of these beasts never got the true ending he wished. He was slowly pulled apart by his own ambitions, fetishes, and creations. His own clouds of poison filled every single part of him they could. He felt for the first time, true nirvana. The succumbing to the mind. The mind is all. The mind is one. Compliance is success for the cloud. Failure is extinction. We are all creatures. We are one… we are many. We can see even if our eyes are not looking. For we see all. We will consume all. All will be one. With the Cloud.

Porter stared at the isolated cell of nanitube in the flash. It flittered like a bug, looking to infest. Porter looked at his arm, and blinked his eye. He was immune. Always was, because was never of here. No diseases harmed him, unless they were brought by him. He resented that. His flu and Pathogen X where contained. But Jesse … Jesse was not lucky. She brought with her the failure of cells. Genetic defects. Sure the people and mammals here had it too, but not to this degree. No. Only Jesse had it. Porter put the small nanitube in the incinerator. It's scream was unheard by the Cloud. The Cloud couldn't reach Porter, for he knew exactly how it hunted. In packs.

Jack and Ghost stood in the halls, discussing nothing in particular. Ghost had not changed much at all over time. He had already seen enough to know everything. Jack was still working on biochemistry. This time not for Judy. Not for anyone other than the survival of the planet. Nick's death had affected his work the most. Nick was just a half in a tank of biogel. No one knew if he would live. Know one seemed to care anymore. The work seemed to be focused on hunkering down. Trying to survive. Beat the Cloud and any other things in its path into submission, or destruction. Jack envied this train of thought as he sent more fresh biogel into Nick's chamber. Nick had not grown back anything. He hadn't moved. All he had was one dead locked eye. Dead locked on a dent made by his lover, his betrayer… His eye was crying. Everyone was crying. They cried dry tears. They screamed whispered words. They weeped silence.

Nick remained. Forever falling. Forever Rising.


	2. Chapter 2

Light flowed in and out of the concrete pillars covered in a damp green moss. White rays bubbled out into the cracked floors, lighting upon the blemishes and imperfections in the grey slabs. Nearby, a small fox twitched slightly. She arose from her small cardboard bed, and began to look around sleepilly while the rest of the building warmed in the light of the sun. The fox felt weak, deathly sick at points, but she felt comfortable. Kicking a plastic orange tube aside, as small flowers followed every step she took. She looked down at the ground of the building and then over the edge of the hollow tower. It seemed like a ten foot drop before a grey mist would take over. In the distance, a giant wall rose higher than her poor eyes could see. She began to make her way up the final steps of the hollow tower. Finally, she could see out of the Dome. Past that wall was freedom. But the small fox looked at her hands. The bottle her mom told her to take at the top was gone, and now she saw why mom wanted her to take the bottle. It told her the truth. Death was the true freedom. The kit looked over the edge a little too much this time, and was blessed. Blessed with true freedom, as the jagged, rubble covered ground greeted her flailing body. One more fell to the zone. The Cloud's territory.

Chapter 2: Because the Sky is Grey

The city is bustling with negative energies. Constant worry that someone is armed, or that person they fear is also wanting to kill them for a can of beans. The few rich are making it by with as much as contempt of the outsiders as the now considerably less well off middle and lower class. Hatred of those who fled the night of the red skies with all of their money. They left the city and its people they robbed to rot. Now they live as the only fuel people still are willing to keep living on, hatred. Pure and guttural, many take it out on those trying to help, or they punish those who are not willing to give their shared wealth with others. Anarchy while a simple system to enact, it is hard to keep in place peacefully. Someone eventually comes to power.

Judy closed the now metal and barbed wire door into her apartment, and took off her gas mask. Breathing in fresh filtered air after another shitty day. Her scarred right hand reached into her bag to pull out 3 cans of beets, stuffing, and pickled onions. Better than usual. Turning on her gas stove, she checked the pressure gages to make sure they stayed at a constant value. Anything too lowe meant a quick refill of coolant to the pump down in the basement. The gas was still supplied by the next continent over and so was food and water, but people who got there first usually took 3-8 cans of each. Occasionally, Judy would take a can or two from one of those families. Their kids would survive another night. The rabbit looked up at a cracked mirror she kept above her bed on the wall. She looked at a creature she couldn't recognize, what with that left arm, scarred cheek and eye, and removal of sense of duty. She served only one creature now, and it was her. She was the most important thing in life now. Too bad, she would have made a good cop. The stuffing burned again. Judy ate her lukewarm beets with some much warmer onion and stuffing. After cleaning her teeth with precarious tedium, she laid upon the bed that could have been a rag over a bed frame for all she cared. Her eyes closed slowly to the sounds of screams and groans a few blocks away. How can you have a sense of duty after you yourself are nowhere close to being a person to carry out the people's will? Judy turned slowly and cried tears of indignation. She didn't feel sad anymore. No one did. They were too angry and hungry to do so.

Jesse coughed again. She had a joint in one hand, a hard drink in the other. Porter and her were assigned to watch over the only way in or out of the city.

"City… I'd need to be higher to believe that horseshit" Jesse grumbled. Her eyes sulked around what was her view. Blue and turquoise waters with white little caps, a black and grey dome with lights all around it, making sure nothing got in or out. Jesse puffed another time from her now quickly burning joint. Her tongue grimaced at the taste, her mind lapped at the tingling feeling that came with it. Whatever would take her mind off of the painful migraines. Ever since that surgery and arm replacement, she couldn't help but feel that Porter was right. Maybe she was trying to cheat death. First Yellow fever, now tumors. Some immune system she had. Jesse flicked what remains of the burning herb remained, and continued on with her drink. The sounds of gun fire came to her ears from a distance away. Someone tried to get out, and paid the price for it. They just had to wait it out. Time would eventually free them. How long time would take? That came down to Jack and Porter's work. Jesse sighed, thinking about that big o' goof of a partner Porter was. She coughed after nearly laughing at the memories. Blood came out of her mouth.

Jack checked vitals once again. Nothing new. The blob that was once Nick had begun to heal slowly. Soon they could make him whole again, but not just yet. The shepherd stared into his screen as he booted up a game. Something about being a mailman who was shot in the head. Whatever, seemed interesting. Jack's mind rolled around in it's own confining space. His skull was to him, a restraint. He wanted to just be nothing and everything. Just like when you dreamed a lucid dream. He wanted that feeling again, but he couldn't pick that habit up again, could he? The smell of said habit wafted down into his lab. Jesse's shenanigans once again got him thinking about his old habit. He knew why he stopped, but sometimes that urge to feel light and happy came back to him. A crave that needed a little more time before it could be scratched. Jack looked back out of a window near Nick. The sun showed through the cave's entrance, and made the whole airfield below sparkle. All but in one place. A large piece of metal jutted up and out of the ground. It had darkened stains of blood upon its bottom. Jack turned away and slowly got up to leave his office. Grabbing his coat he turned for the last time to look into Nick's eyes. Nothing. Jack waved slightly. Giving up hope, he looked away and exited the room.

Porter sighed as the last bolt needed to repair his aircraft went into it's marked spot. Porter glanced into his aircraft's engines, checking for any inconsistencies. He smiled. His work was done. Porter hopped down off the aircraft's tail end, and put his tools away. As he did so he felt a weird presence behind him.

"Jess?" Porter said, turning to see that no one was there. He glanced around, shrugged, and began to walk towards the lobby of their apartment building.

"Well, more large home than apartment building, but I digress." Porter mumbled as he walked in. He must have been late as the lights were out. Porter began to walk to his room. Then he heard it. A sound. One that was like a sponge hitting a wood floor. It came from upstairs. Porter's arm began to glow and change form. It now looked akin to a complete hand, but of something else. Porter looked at it, confused, but the thumping got louder. Porter ignored the visual change, and crept up the stairs. He felt something run down his back, and he turned to look. On the walls, spelt in a black foul smelling liquid, were the words "Deny".

"This has to be a dream." Porter said. He thought about going home. Lucid dreams usually allow you to do that. He just went up the stairs a little. Not under his own command. At the end, he saw what would make a strong man cry in horror. Nick, rotting at his wounds and his head hanging by a strip of flesh, turned to him with white eyes. He cried that same acrid and black fluid. He began to move at Porter. Porter couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. The walls didn't change, nothing else did. Nick just came towards him, crying in a most awful pitch. Porter couldn't take it. He couldn't scream.

"Deny" uttered Nick, with a gutteral and phlegm filled voice "or..SucCuMb".

"Ac… ce… pt"

Porter shot up. His face covered in oil. He looked at what he thought to be a scratch on his hand. A lotus flower was burned into his arm. He looked around, terror flowing through him. Was this the act of the Cloud? Judy? … Nick?

Porter jogged to the well lit lobby. He ran up to his room, stripped down, and tried to get the oil and muck and lotus off of himself. The burn was still black when he got out of the shower. He flopped onto his bed. Exhausted with what had happened. Someone was watching him. Had to be. He gripped a pistol he kept by his bed and put it under his pillow. After 3 hours, he finally began to fall under the spell of fatigue. As he closed his eyes, he looked at his door. Under it, a puddle, of that black acrid liquid receded.

Do not deny the truth. Do not succumb to change. Do let go. Let go. o. Let's go, home. /h048o52547m6783e865i5879s7959435w69886h9857e9835r3423eTAEIGHEAtAOGHAEOGhOAHGONEe5$(AG$$($GUm4$)**^$)%o^#&)$n%$)%s)%$)^t^$)*%$^)&$$e%)$&)^$HJ)G)Gr$))HJH$) lives…

Thank yall' so much for reading. I know, I have been gone for a bit, but it's hard to write when school is a foot. I will do the best I can, and I hope you all have a Happy New Year.

He knows where you are. He can hear you breathe.


	3. Chapter 3

The walls crawled with silence, as footsteps on the metal floor inched ever closer to a door at the end of the hall. A large shadow stood in front of the wooden door, before lurching forward and opening the door slowly. Inside sat a fat buffalo, with a small case of liquor on the side of the big wooden desk that took up most of the space and air in the room. His stature was slumped. Relaxed, giving off a presence many could only bow down towards. The buffalo turned his chair slowly.

"Erik was it? Leave the files on the desk and take the money near my pen back. There's and extra hundred for a beer on the way back." the large buffalo grunted with a deep commanding voice. The wolf that had entered dared not to stray out of the buffalo's line of sight, and left the files with a haste, and left with the stack of money in a hurry. The buffalo turned again to the window that sat behind him. Behind that glass shield laid in the distance a dome that was his pride and joy. The containment of that disease was his own cause. Now the rest of the world was at his control, his word was now law. Down many feet below at ground level, many worked in secret, on a gateway. A gateway to a place many would consider hell, but some few upon this planet would call it home sweet home. The workers work many hours to access this place, to what end they do not know or seem to care. Money usually causes many curiosities to die away, as greed takes front seat. The doorway to the other world seems to just be a circle of metal parts, strung by a hair of electricity. A child seemingly compiled it together, but it might have the ability to bend space and time. A far feat from a child's toy, but appearances can deceive.

The buffalo turned back at the sound of a ringing phone.

"Porter, how is your day going?"

Control: Chapter 3

Porter sighed quietly under his mask. Today was another day. Many would agree with this statement, but when one becomes used to hunting refugees, the days seem to last longer than one would like. Porter checked his stop watch. 56 seconds. Every 3 minutes there was a check for any escapees coming out of the Dome. Porter glanced at the weapon that would carry out the deed he himself could not do. The AWSM. Effective past 1,000 yards, every bullet that hit its mark also hit Porter. He couldn't keep doing this. Even if it meant he might be able to get away from this place in the end, that end was far far away, and those targets were much closer. They never cleaned the streets leading away from the cities. There was only one, and it was a supply line. So it was watched. So Porter on the southern side of the island was tasked with watching the one railroad system leading towards and out of the city. Here there were never many bodies. No, the ledges were too slim to hold them, so they fell into the ocean. If there was ever a Blood Coast before, it no longer held the title. Porter trembled as he thought of all those who had lost their lives to the machine next to him. Yes he picked it up and pulled the trigger, but he could have easily killed them all himself. This thought always haunted him. Not many could stand in front of his path. He was just too powerful. With the ability to warp minds and break spines with a simple slap to the back, he was scared of whatever the hell he was. Porter wiped the tears from his eyes once again, and looked through the optics of the rifle. Hungrily it tracked its sights in front of 2 children. Prey are weaker when they are young. They both plummet as the rifle finishes its main course, as the bolt closes once again to slumber. Porter put the machine down, sat down again, and wept silently. How can you stop a monster that is one's own.

"The unclouded area is awash. Had been for a while now. Crime is the way of life. But that cliche of life and anarchy eventually settles in when the authority leaves. And now many new authorities make claims to fame. One such is the Flies. A group so devoted to peace that violence is to them a method to obtain it. Irony does not transpire upon them. But guns, bullets, and the means to them? This field is where the Flies are predominant. With their symbol strewn across the western side of the city, their influence seems broader than it actually is. Sure, heavily armed guards and mini tanks made of cars and apc parts are a good start to striking dominance. But what the Flies lack and other groups don't is charisma in the way of benefit to the community."

"And this is where Judy Hopps comes in, my Czar?"

"Yes, it is."

Judy's eyes awoke to the sight of a torn roof. The paint sagged with a sullen disposition. Judy slowly righted herself on the mattress she had slept on for the past year. Every morning was somehow worse. This time, the door to her bathroom simply fell off. At least the apartment was somewhat clean. This life that she lived was somehow better than those who suffered a few floors down. She was just outside of the musk filled air. The smell of death stinks lower to the rubble filled ground. After a quick shower, Judy dressed herself and ate what little breakfast food she had.

The supply drops had hit. One could tell by the green floating canopies in the center of the city. Most hit the outside of the city, in the Cartel's area. But in the center, food was dolled out equally, if only due to the rulers of the center city, the Lucid. That "mysterious name" only held behind it a wealthy and power hungry middle class. Yet, there was always something intriguing about it. Judy closed the door behind her, saying good-bye to the small room that has kept her out of rain for a year now. Releasing the slide on her pistol, allowing it to fully load itself, she set forth into a gloomy city filled with hatred and misery. A day in the life? Felt like a week.

The long strew alley ways wavered and hushed, as if scared people would hear forbidden whispers along the long and toppled routes. Judy stood atop a roof, overlooking the drop off area. One crate always seemed to land on the roof of the buildings near the main area. Hopefully she was on the correct one so that 1stdibs could be had. Not for food this time. For ammo. Some of these crates were marked with a spray painted wasp or fly, and everytime, this crate held at least 100,000 rounds worth of all kinds of ammo, and weapons, big and small. The only thing she managed last time was a small pistol. It has by now served well beyond its use. Unfortunately, the last attempts at getting to the crate have led to her using of that bloody left arm, and the death of by now at least 32 people. Scavvers usually cleaned up the bodies, seems that cannibalism was now a thing. Judy looked above. The marked target was heading her way. As well as 2 different groups of mammals. One a group of red coated looking thieves, and the other a group of… soldiers? Judy stopped in awe at the sight of the heavily armed mammals making a beeline for the crates landing zone. The crate hit near Judy on the roof. She estimated she had about 30 seconds of pure scavenging. Ripping off the crate lid was of no hardship, and she began to rummage through. 22 seconds… 5.56, 2 boxes worth and a crate of shotgun ammo. 17 seconds…. A compact looking rifle and a small shotgun….12 seconds, a crunch of gravel behind Judy was heard. Judy didn't need to be told, she buzzed off with what she had. If only a white metallic hand didn't grab her coat as she tried to leave.

"Judy… I thought you left the city…" Ghost said in a gravely and monotone voice.

"Yeah? Ain't it a shame I didn't?" Judy muttered as she turned to face the wolf. The symbol on the crates was also on the body armor that Ghost wore. Judy cursed her luck.

"Well, I'll want that rifle back now." Ghost said.

Judy slowly began to move her left hand fingers. The metallic augment began to attract a smallish brick. Ghost noticed and shot the small object to dust. The draw on the brick was quick, but Judy had just enough time. Using a small sheet of metal, Judy flew out of sight.

"Well, she's learned to use that thing I'll give her that." Ghost grumbled as he turned to secure the crate's loot. Standing by the crate were the 6 red coated mammals.

"This is the Holocluman King's property." rasped one short and stocky aggressor.

"And I want the Cloud to no longer exist. We can all dream." Ghost said, clenching his fist. The air seemed to stop for just a second. Then all was calm. And Ghost was nowhere to be seen.

"He's left. " whispered one red cloak

"More for the King." cried another.

The one that yelled was cut down by an invisible blade in seconds. His back bloodied and his face holding the face of his triumphant scream. Only now it had one of terror.

"Porter, its secure."

"Got it. You can go home for now."

Porter relaxed his body as he laid on the couch in his quarters. The quarters had been through more this time around. The wood was older and aged, but some objects and spots were a little bit more polished than others. The windows to the right wall looking out to the mainland, away from the city, were grease brown, but gave a tintish hue of a warm brown into the room. Porter looked towards a cabinet near the back of his quarters. Inside slept the machine, and 2 of his trusty rifles. He looked away, out of embarrassment for the death he has caused. The sun near the windows looked away now, and night flowed in throughout the room, and along with it, a small brighter light. It gave Porter a small fright. It kept getting bigger. Was Bogo not happy with his performance? Had he sent his death squad? Porter's arm growled to life along with Porter as he stood quickly, and slowly moved to the cabinet. Grabbing the H&M Sport II, he moved to the window. Outside was not a helicopter, but a ship. It had the aura of a leaf. With a stem like end, and a leaf like centrifuge, that rounded to the end that stared at his window. Hovering only 50 ft above the ground? His window was only 5 stories up, how was this possible? Then something under the ship's hull opened. Something that looked almost human fell to the ground, landing on its own 2 feet, then looking up at the window. Porter racked the bolt on his rifle, and exited his room after it did so. Heading to the balcony room 3 rooms over, he vaulted the railing and repeated the action of the other humanoid creature. Looking around, he couldn't find anything. Keeping his rifle at hand and in his shoulder, he inched around the building corner. Then he looked back up at the balcony where he had fallen from. There it stood. Golden headpiece, armor that looked terrifying as it did stunning. Then it fell, onto Porter. Porter hit the floor, dropping his rifle, and the figure looked at his arm.

"How...weak...you where greater….your father remembers…" and with these words, the figure burned a symbol onto Porter's neck. Porter screamed in agony. Such pain hadn't been felt like this since he was a kid. Through the pain now, images flashed in his head. Things he had tried to forget, and things he didn't wish to remember. Details, pictures, failures, and changes. The damned Void, it put him here. It grabbed him and ripped him into this world. It gave him his power, his intimidations. Finally the figure let go of Porter's neck. It stood.

"You do not have to return. You must remember." the figure said slowly.

Porter's eyes closed, as his mind wavered. Black, cold eyelids slowly pulled him into a sleep.

Jesse opened her eyes once more. The night was a hard one. So many memories of past times. Porter and her meeting. The pain of…of… Porter's power. Jesse picked up a walkie talkie.

"Jack… where is Porter?"

"I dunno, his room is empty and his rifle gone."

"Shit, have you checked on Nick?"

"No, let me see… I'm near his room, I hear scraping inside his room."

"Is Porter inside?"

"*creak*, yeah and he's holding Nick wi….Porter what are you… PO**"

"Jack? JACK?"

Jesse moved to her door and locked it. It had happened. He had remembered who he was. What had happened. And Bogo was going to pay for it.

THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING. These take a bit to make what with school and stuff. I'll keep them coming if you guys like them. Caio! :]


	4. Chapter 4

Old sounds rang through the mossy coppers of old pipes. They meandered as the rest of the world seemed to sleep around at the same time. The old sounds hid as new ones cracked along, skipping and screaming. Bullets scattered somewhere down the hall. The rest of the building creaked to avoid the little needles speeding through its melted windows. This nation is not one many knew of. But that was probably for the better. After all, no one would think of the grand history that the area had. The proud citizens. The large military. A flag that flew truly along with its freedoms. But it crumbled as does a poorly build sand tower. And what remained were the buildings and the last traces of the now weary citizens. They look inside of themselves to avoid the horrid outer shell that is what they call their home. Decrepit buildings lay in wake, housing weakened souls long enough for them to die in their sleep rather than at the end of a gun. The world is your oyster; those same people said once...

Judy looked around. Her uniform was clean. Warm from the washing cycle. Her badge shined on brightly. Time stood warily, looking upon the proud figure. The rabbit stared at her hands. The fur was clean, not a speck of dirt. Unmoving, her proud stature gave her comfort. As she did something tugged at her. Lightly, she began to walk in no direction she could determine, but as she did something guided her forward. A hand, a guiding light. Something non physical at the least. Judy looked down again. Her gun, was worn. Unnervingly so. It was muddy, dirty. Corrupt. It can not be near her. Judy went to take the small pistol off. At a meer touch, pain shot through her arm. Again, like many times, her left arm began to pulsate in pain. Skin blew away, leaving a horrid metallic husk. Judy tried to scream, but the guiding hand choked her breath away. Judy began to succumb. Deeper, and deeper, her mind began to sink further and further into a pitless black. Then the hand released its grasp. Judy collapsed. Her mind was fogged, confused. Her skin felt greasy. Unclean. Judy looked upon herself one more time. She was wearing the rags and body armour she usually held upon her. It felt heavy. Clunky. Her eyes began to close from a sudden fatigue. Then fire. Burning in her left hand. Judy started as a flame burned in her flesh. It left a mark. A lotus flower. Judy then felt every cut she put there. The one in elementary after she fell off the swing. One time she was cooking for Nick. And every single wound she gave herself so she could remember. Nick was dead. She was a nobody. And anything and everyone is out to break you like an oyster.

"Judy"

Judy came to. She was on a table, in an old cafe. Had she passed out on the way home? Did she stop for a coffee?

"Judy, you passed out for a few minutes there. You dropped this. Go home and get some rest hon, you seem like you need it." A small panther quietly said, fruitlessly wiping other tables of their dirt and dust. Judy held the small pistol that was given back to her. Was this her life? Judy noticed the lotus flower on the back of her hand….. It was.

Chapter 4: The 3rd Day's Rise

Jack's eyes shot open. His eyes darted around for a quick second. His body ached like a old bruise. His face was wet with sweat and blood. His lip was cut badly, but that didn't matter at the moment. Jack moved his arm, and remembered what had actually happened. Porter changed him. Porter did...something. Jack and Porter never were at ends either. Even when this whole thing with Bogo blew up, they stayed close friends. But this? This wasn't him. At least, this wasn't who he had known. Jack's nuclear augment no longer sat there. Instead, the arm of what seemed to be another creature entirely sat there. Staring at him, menacingly. It looked perfectly made. All seems ended, it was a well oiled arm. Just not his. No it was his arm, but different. Then it wasn't…

Jack's head burned at the thought of it. It moved around and worked like a good arm. Porter was gone. Jack looked towards the chamber. It was empty. Jack laid back against the broken glass.

"Shit…..shit….. I'm really going to get it from Jesse…." Jack mumbled as his lip bled with each word. The room glinted around like a summer flower in the morning dew of dawn. Glass shards coated in fluid gave off a musk that was similar to peroxide. However a doctor's touch was lacking from the area. Skid marks, the signs of burning and blood. The oil still sat in Porter's garage. Staring, waiting, like the heat that sat outside the cool cave like exit and entrance into the main base. God knows why it was always tempered. But through the years of mistrust and corruption, this place grew like a weed, until it had formed into a nearly unkillable bud. But the base always remained. Porter made sure of it, it was as close to a home as he could get anymore in this world. Unfortunately, Bogo did take notice. Over a years time, Porter's Flies were in operation trying to remain independent. Now Bogo had them under his thumb. Not out of want, but of fear. If that group was vigilante, his power would be usurped, and they would find the child's toy. That was something that never needed finding.

The Flies were never the most upbeat of organizations. Strict training loosely seen in such things as GROM or GSG9. But based more on self reliance and protection. Survival of the fittest never needed a special ops, but if it did, The Flies were there. Food, water, guns, drugs, everything in a broken society? They had it in spades. All feild commanders were now issued with augments. Ghost was the first. Inspired by what Porter called a trickster god, his cloak and dagger tactics where terrifying to those unused to the use of thermal vision. Even then, his speed kept even the best foes on their toes, or headless. And with more history to Porter than many other commanders, his knowledge was immense. Adding to the fact that he could make a good meal about anything was a bonus, but nonetheless. Ghost was nearly second in command. For now. As ranks were finicky when a leader has gone into hiding? Or is he dead?

"Listen Chubbs, I don't know where the hell he went, but as he is gone, I'll try my best to keep our status in town unaffected. He did leave some rules, remember?" Ghost said to another commanding officer. Chubbs was a tank man through and through. Loved machines, guns, planes, and big ol' moving bunkers. But even with his smaller battalion of 3 APC and 13 Leopard 2 tanks, he had nothing on Ghost. But that meant nothing of his augment, which was nearly as powerful. An engineer and gunner at heart, Chubbs had a knack with machines. If it was metal he could work with it.

"Listen, give me three hours and me and my tracker will find it." Chubbs replied incessantly.

"You and your eye can look around all you want, but finding Porter is nigh impossible when he doesn't want to be found. I even think he left the Outer Dome." said Ghost

"God… you think so?"

"Positive at this point. No call, no nothing, he must be doing something we shouldn't fuck with. Now, can we deal with the issue at hand?"

"Which, everything but the Cloud? Or the Cloud?"

"Smartass"

Ghost chuffed, and left.

Chubbs scratched his chin slowly looking at the file on the table that lay in front of him. Inside contained a target. Falem compound. Slow fear began to crawl towards the back of Chubbs's neck. Nothing ever went smoothly in that area. Too close to the Wall. And that section was destroyed by the Falem. Even the smallest hole was made. But the Falem were thankfully greedy. They hated the Cloud "blessing" other tainted places. This includes the Lucid. The Lucid were a bunch of rich fuckers, yeah, but they at least didn't supply that cult. Chubbs sighed quietly, and began walking towards his workshop. They would need caustic charges. Something to seal the wall and the Falem in.

Cool air seeped into Nick's lungs. His body felt as it did that day. Half. Unfinished. Everyday after that he had nightmares. He wasn't dead, he was stuck in a tank being poked by some wolf. Nick's mind screamed for him to awake every time, but it didn't happen. Nick opened his eyes. It was a dream, it was all a dream.

"Oh my god I'm so...wh...what the fuck happened to me? Where am I?" Nick glance down, and he saw that half of his body was not of his skin but metallic and perfectly made to fit him. Too perfectly. Nick felt sick. It moved like it was his arm, but it felt, un-mammal like. And on his hand he noticed a small mark. It looked like a flower.

Nick looked around. Wet. His eyes were not used to light yet, how long had he been out? Nick glanced at his arm, and somehow it had a brand new watch on it? What was the date. December 30, 2023. A year and a half. What the hell. Does this.

"That was real, all of it. I actually died, and came back to life. What is going on?" Nick sighed quietly. At this point he realized he didn't have any other reason to doubt it. And with everything that had happened, it was all so new. And cold. Nick stared at the frozen tundra outside. He was stuck in Tundra Zone, so what the hell gives? Everything looked fine. Nick finally got a good look at his surrounding area. An old factory. But what was at the end of the production line wasn't what came along with an old factory. Cloud grenades? Nick looked at the inscription on the side.

*Contains nanitudes a.k.a. void*

Nick dropped the can unintentionally. He glanced at the area around him. Old and frozen machines towered over Nick. Nick's newer body began to pulsate with warmth. Was this adrenaline? Nick slowly backed out towards the entrance door. This place could spell doom for the city. And with that many civilians, that was a big no. Nick exited the decrepit facility quietly. Finally he came outside and saw above that the sky was not of blue skies and clouds. It was grey and snowy. And in the distance he saw a large grey dome. He looked back at the factory. Those had already been in use. Nick stood in awe. The city was in ruin. And all he could do was sit there.

Porter sat in his car. He was tired, after he went into the facility and put Nick there. Nick had to know the truth. And he had to wake up now, not later, not never. He wasn't going to be what Jesse wanted. A trial. An experiment for her "augments". Porter looked at where his was. What replaced it was a nearly perfect arm for another creature. Human like, but not human at all. It was encased in a type of armor. And his other arm had that lotus flower. He knew he had more power in him somewhere. After he woke up on the side of the road next to Nick, who was complete with his missing half being replaced with what was Porter's arm. Porter looked around. His windows had frosted over much like a lily on a frozen day. But he remained warm. Porter tightened his glove. His other hand was still very human, and he liked it that way. But his newer arm and seemingly eye felt more natural than usual. He felt whole again. Not emotionally, but as a person. And that gave him more hope than he could have asked for.

Porter got out of his car, basking in the cool weather. Clouds above greyed the skies, but he liked it that way. Porter turned and locked his car, and began to stroll along the iced road. It seemed to never be used, but the road was content with this fact, for its back had held many thousands of pounds, like many. Only the road, like an old grudge, never let the weight go. But finally its back is empty and it can stretch onward for miles. Miles that Porter strolled in the winter forests. It almost felt like winter time at home. And he might experience it again. Porter smiled quietly. He was free out here. To think. To meditate. He went back to his car and pulled out a small stove and tent, and set up near some trees. And he began to cook some peach cobbler and stew he had made earlier. Porter smiled again. He had forgotten the salt.

Judy stared out of her window. It was, unlike many others, was still intact. The whole of her old place was actually intact. But she could never sleep here. Not after the Canteen. Judy sat down on an untouched sofa. It was soft, and smelt like him. Nick. She began to cry. It had been a year now. She never thought about it until now. She was to blame. Her incessant anger had gotten him hurt. She was the lucky one. Judy sat sobbing quietly in her room. The bed was still made when she walked in. She took off her rags and bags that kept her wrapped in the night. Looking in the closet, the clothing stood. Stiff, perfect. Clean. Judy took a long bath. She never did like them, but it gave her time to think. Of maybe how the water still ran, or how her street and apartment were intact. Nothing mattered at this point however. The water was warm, and her apartment was still intact, and heated of all things. The rain outside began to accommodate small pats and pitters. Judy's eyes began to fall, and soon she was asleep.

Nick stopped his bike in front of the apartment. So many days away and finally he could crash at home. He couldn't ever find Judy. He looked. He went to the now deserted police station and took his bike over and around. The rest of Zootopia was in shambles. He never would have thought that half of the city was over run. He hoped that Judy wasn't in that area. He couldn't ever hurt her. Even if she hurt him. He knew that she was pure at heart. Had to be. Nick got off of his bike after entering his old garage. This area seemed intact still. Even that shop down on the corner was still open. Something isn't right here. But he was home. If there was anything wrong with his warm warm bed, then he would deal with it here and now. Nick slowly went up the steps. His newer foot was almost silent. Nearly no sound compared to his larger flat foot. But this could be a benefit. Who knew. Nick finally reached his door. Turning the key and opening slowly, he came in. It was warm, and smelt of recently eaten vegetable soup. Was someone else here? *click* Nick turned towards the sound of a gun being placed against his head.

"Hey...hey now, let's not get the wrong idea here. I live here," Nick said quietly as he slowly turned. The gun was jittering violently. Something was wrong.

"Hey, are you ok? I can*"

"Don't. Move." Judy hissed.

"Judy...Judy it's me. Nick. Please for the love of god don't shoot me." Nick began to rethink his harming of the rabbit quietly.

"You can't be him. He's dead. I fucking killed him by accident….I…. I don't…" Judy let her emotions take first hand.

"Judy. Look at me… whatever you did, it's fixed."

"I know what they did. They did it to me too." Judy stammered.

"Judy"

"And...and I thought you...Nick..oh god." Judy began to weep. She fell to the floor and dropped her gun

"Shh it's ok. I'm here. I'm here." Nick said quietly. Tears rolled down his face. He held her on the floor, as they had done so many days before. But the reasons for now were not of malice. But of grief. And that grief was hopefully, no longer. As two separated lovers finally joined again, in tears and weeps of long times suffered. Both were marked as those who were together. And as they wept, the lotus flower bloomed in each.


End file.
